A Mind Such As Mine
by LemmyMots
Summary: Taking place betweem the games Arkham Asylum and Arkham City. The Riddler struggles with an identity crisis, and the innate urge for revenge, all made worse upon discovering a certain conspiracy behind the staff.
1. Prologue

To see a police car outside the gates of Arkham Asylum was never a rarity. The institute had become more akin to a prison than a psychiatric institute in the last few years. The city of Gotham attributed this, of course, to the arrival of Batman. His quest to rid the city of the crime that was synonymous with its name had backfired terribly. Like a virus, the criminals Batman beat only returned, stronger and in greater numbers, and most of all, more lethal. Edward Nygma had always laughed at the notion that "The Bat-Man" having even a chance to win his one-man war.

Tonight, however, the joke was on him. Bruised and defeated, the Riddler sat restlessly in the back of this squad car. As he was a slender, lanky man, and in any case not particularly prone to violence, the driver saw no need for sirens. In fact, after what every policeman in the city had been through that night, the quiet drive to the Asylum was a godsend for Officer Nolan Preston, even with a domestic terrorist sitting just behind him. Obviously, the Riddler didn't look the part, but Preston and a few officers nearly died navigating the trap-laden building where he had spent the night with a bunch of computers, tracking Batman. Preston and the other men had been up all night "defusing" bombs full of marzipan and kittens, and since nobody on the force would dare touch the Joker, the officers had decided to instead let off steam by collectively beating Riddler into submission. Preston himself delivered a blow with his nightstick to the back of his head, even though the Riddler was already reduced to sniveling madly on the floor.

Now at ease, he regretted the brutality. For four years, he prided himself on avoiding the corruption within the Gotham Police Department. He looked from his rearview mirror- Edward's nose was probably broken, his purple-tinted glasses completely shattered. His bowler hat was off, revealing some blood staining his faded, orange hair. He had since regained consciousness, but for once, the Riddler remained absolutely silent, no expression in his dull, slightly red eyes. He stared through the screen, through the windshield into the woods leading up to Arkham. Preston decided that he would give Commisioner Gordon his two weeks notice that Friday.

Officer Preston and Riddler were well aware of the chaos that had occured at Arkham Asylum, but both of them had yet to see the reality of it. Edward's blank expression was gone. At five in the morning, the asylum was bustling, but not with life. The place was always somber, but tonight, hundreds of men and women were occupied with carting off bodies, both dead and unconscious. Gurneys wheeled madly around- some into the back of ambulances, and some back into Arkham's medical facility. Grotesque plants were littered around the grounds. The statue of Warden Sharp lied in pieces on the ground, and in the distance, some firemen were still extinguishing the front of the Visitor Center. The car stopped with a slight jolt, and Riddler was suddenly taken by two of the asylum guards. Nobody said a word to Preston. Before he turned the car around, he caught a glimpse of a body bag, which had only been partially closed in the haste to get it out. Inside the bag was Officer Frank Boles. Preston recognized the drunk bastard who threatened his family once, after he had overheard a very incriminating phone call. Still, the horrid, green smile plastered on his face would haunt his dreams for a week or so after the drive.

Nolan Preston's two weeks notice was on Gordon's desk the next morning.


	2. Coming Home

By this point in his return to Arkham, the Riddler would normally be ranting  
indignantly, shouting about the genius of his latest thwarted plot. Tonight,  
for once, The Riddler was left mostly speechless. As he saw the chaos,  
punctuated by painted smiles, characteristic of Joker's rampages, all he  
could do was wonder what the mad clown had done. But even in shock, Edward  
would not stand for being pulled by his arms through the whole of the asylum grounds.  
"Stop this, you mindless drones, let me walk!", he protested, beginning to  
struggle. Both men tugged him along.

Inspecting them, Edward noted that neither of them looked angry or even  
irritated, as the men assigned to his transportation so often did. Like the  
driver of the police car- the ape that beat him with a stick- these men  
looked tired, frightened. They had seen a lot that night. The Riddler knew well  
in advance about the Joker's  
plans to escape, and he was not so naive as to think he would be doing so  
without fatalities. Still, not even he could predict anything when it came to  
the clown prince of crime. Clearly, the Joker had spent the better part of the  
night running amock in Arkham Asylum. However, there were no signs of anyone  
having escaped. The Joker was insane, but not stupid; there had to be a reason  
for him to remain in Arkham. The monstrous plants lying dead in the fields  
meant that Poison Ivy was somehow involved. The sheer scale of the damage  
was unlike anything Poison Ivy was capable of before.

Riddler knew that most of the damage could in fact be his own doing. He had  
fully intended to see Batman run himself ragged that night, trying in vain to  
solve the riddles so carefully set up everywhere. Edward had personally  
explored the surprisingly vast secrets of the asylum in his recreational  
periods, depositing his self-made trophies. He had to bribe some of the  
asylum's cleaners into spraying his invisible paint, leaving massive question  
marks right under the noses of the foolish staff. In all, the effort went on  
for months. Once the game was set, the Riddler would escape behind the madness  
of the fleeing Joker, and head for the building where his men had finished  
installing everything he needed to monitor his riddles and trophies. With the  
obligatory bomb he would use to coerce him, the Riddler planned to gleefully  
see Batman's mind break trying to solve the riddles. Soon after the night had  
begun, however, his video surveillance was made short work of. At first blaming  
it on his moron subordinates, he now deduced that it was the Joker's fault.  
Because of the madman's circus, Batman was able to cheat his way through the  
entire challenge. All that the Riddler had worked for was for naught. A night  
ruined because Batman had immediately resorted to every possible shortcut and  
every cheap trick. Any trained monkey could be "the World's Greatest Detective"  
with such an arsenal of gadgets.

On that note, the Riddler found himself being halted. He presumed he was in  
front of a physician; he was always given a brief, bastardized physical when  
re-entering the prison. Instead, he looked up to find the warden, Quincy Sharp.  
It was evident that not even he escaped the night unscathed. His pale, round,  
balding face was  
bruised all over, his suit was in tatters, and a bandage was hastily wrapped  
around his leg. "Edward Nashton: the  
last man I needed to see. You may take him directly to his usual cell. Thank  
the lord that building was left operational."

Immediately, the Riddler felt the need to respond. He struggled against the guards for  
a few seconds, saying loudly and confidently, "Warden, perhaps you find  
yourself in shock, so I will excuse your inability to remember. Let me assure  
you that my name change was done entirely legally, and I will thank you to  
honor it. My last name is Nygma. That's 'NYGMA' with a 'Y', not an 'I'. I'm  
sure you can sound the rest of it out." He was ignored. Sharp simply groaned,  
and wiped his sweating brow with a handkerchief as Edward Nygma was brusquely  
hauled away.

Now approaching the familiar holding cells in Intensive Treatment, Edward  
noticed the Blackgate inmates  
were all left nearly catatonic, no doubt by Batman. It would be a long year,  
sharing Arkham Asylum with not only the usual band of lunatics, but these  
buffoons, dumped there after the Joker burnt down the Asylum weeks earlier.  
When he arrived at his cell, he was at least consoled to find that his cell was  
kept empty for him. He prefered to keep to himself while incarcerated, and in  
any case, hardly anyone could stand to be in his company for very long. The  
cell was spacious enough, by prison standards. Still, it was deplorable, even  
before any destruction. The bed was stiff, of course; rather than bedposts, it  
was held up by bolts in the wall. The tiles were cracked, and falling off. The  
walls were stained, and marked with green question marks by the Riddler. There  
were even some green footprints, from one particularly unbearable night. The  
guards let him go gently, and he slowly paced forward into the cell. "Dr.  
Cassidy will see you." With these sole words, the men left.

Sure enough, Edward had only a few minutes to himself before he heard  
the rubber shoes of Arkham's medical uniform, accompanied by the  
stomping of another guard. A young, redheaded woman soon stood outside  
the bars of his cell. She held an orange bundle; Edward's new uniform.  
The guard opened the cell, and she walked in. Her hair was in a messy  
bun, and despite her efforts to conceal it, it was obvious she had  
cried a great deal. Riddler had not seen much of the psychiatric staff  
in his days at Arkham. He had certainly never seen this Dr. Cassidy. He  
looked up from his bed, inevitably into her eyes. He couldn't prevent  
himself from seeming taken aback, but he collected himself quickly,  
dismissing the woman with an apathetic sniff. She handed him the  
jumpsuit, and began speaking in an uneasy voice. "Hello. I am Doctor  
Sarah Cassidy. I'm part of the psychiatric staff, I will be conducting  
your therapy from now on, Edward." The Riddler's eyes widened for a  
second, realizing instantly that this meant Dr. Young had been killed.

He exhaled. "My condolences. Why tell me this now? Who else is still  
here?", he asked, not for her sake, but for his. He wanted his return  
to go quietly this time. Still, he listened attentively.

"Mr. Cash and I are the last ones left from the night shift. I was just  
about to leave. I wanted to meet with you first." She shuddered. "I can  
see you two weeks from now." Riddler scoffed at the notion of staying  
more than three days.

"Yes, of course," he said, his voice unabashedly sardonic. She  
attempted to smile at him, before turning towards the door. At the last  
moment, he called out to her, "You know: if there had been a more  
intelligent effort, the Joker would never have gotten out in the first  
place. It's only logic that he should choose to stike here. But I am...  
sorry, for the loss, Doctor Cassidy." The last thought came out feebly,  
and to no avail. Cassidy took to trying to control her shaking. She  
controlled her sobbing tremendously well, but still heaved silently.  
She paced quickly away. Behind his riot mask, the guard grimaced at  
Riddler. He locked the door, and turned to escort Dr. Cassidy out. As  
he left, he bitterly spat at Riddler he words he hated the most to hear:

"Welcome home, Riddler."


End file.
